


Sliding Into Despair

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF





	Sliding Into Despair

“I am not going back to the garrison without him!” Athos glowered at the two downcast faces of his best friends who were just as weary and heartsick as Athos.

“It’s been two weeks,” Aramis commented, frustration filling his voice as he removed his hat and threw it on the ground where they all had been resting. “There’s been no sign of d’Artagnan in all that time we’ve been searching.”

“We’ll just be wastin’ our time continuin’ on like this without really knowing where to look,” Porthos tried to be the voice of reason but he could tell that this wasn't what Athos wanted or needed to hear.

“IT WILL NEVER BE A WASTE!” Athos yelled at him. His hand slashed through the air in anger. “Fine! Go on the both of you back to the garrison! I’ll continue on by myself!”

Aramis leaned over toward Porthos to whisper low. “At this rate we’re going to lose Athos as well as d’Artagnan.”

Red rimmed, tired blue eyes stared hopelessly at his surroundings. The boy was out there somewhere. Probably hurt and alone, wondering where his brothers were. “I’m coming, d’Artagnan,” Athos vowed, determination laced his words.

++++

*Small village on the outskirts of Neuilly-sur-Seine*

“That’s it, boy! You have a natural way with the beauties I’ll give you that.” Albert Picard chuckled as he watched the young man he had taken in work his prized horses in the training yard.

“That one’s lived and worked around animals before or I’ll eat my apron.” Olivia Picard was in her early fifties, considered quite an old maid by the standards of those times, but was happily content to keep house for her widowed brother Albert. For the most part they got on famously. Still as most siblings do, they occasionally got on each other nerves. This was not one of those times as she too enjoyed watching the lad take the horses through their paces.

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Albert shook his finger at her. “Don’t be doing that,”he gently admonished, “if you end up choking who would I have to cook and clean up after me?”

“Oh you,” Olivia swatted him with her kitchen towel playfully.

“But I agree, he’s a wonder around them. I can’t count how many times my mares have been persnickety and then I find Francois and all is well now,” Albert was still amazed. He had worked at breeding and training horses for the local gentry for many a year and still hadn’t seen anything the likes of this boy before.

“It’s been nearly three weeks since you found him, Albert,” worry threaded Olivia’s voice, “and still he doesn’t remember who he is.”

“What concerns me most is that no one has come searching for Francois in all that time.” Albert continued to watch the young man as his sister leaned against his shoulder. Seeing a smile trying to sneak out, Albert laughed. “What is your question?”

“He never put up a fuss over the name we gave him,” Olivia tilted her head to the side as she remembered that day.

“We couldn’t exactly keep calling him *boy* or *hey you*," Albert clucked.

“Well, I initially came out here to remind both of you to get cleaned up and make yourselves presentable for we’ll all be attending the village get together in a few hours.” Olivia nudged her brother in the ribs as he rolled his eyes at her.

“Must we?’ Albert sighed. “I hate those things.”

“Only because you can’t abide the single women being shoved under your nose,” she teased. “Perhaps you’ll meet one that will take your fancy this time.” Seeing the dire warning in Albert’s face, Olivia ceased tormenting him. “Now go over and remind Francois.” Olivia muffled her amusement as she heard her brother muttering about nagging him to death.

++++

*Near Neuilly-sur-Seine*

“Athos,” Aramis was developing a headache. His grief over d’Artagnan’s loss and seeing Athos quietly falling apart before his eyes was taking its toll on himself as well. He and Porthos were never going to abandon the search as long as Athos could remain upright in the saddle. Aramis thought back to the mission their youngest had been sent on and couldn’t believe it ended up like this. “We have to rest our horses soon.”

Knowing his friend was correct, Athos curtly nodded at Aramis’s words. So all three of them veered off the path they were on toward a small village where they located a nice inn to stay overnight.

They were warmly welcomed as the innkeeper led them to their rooms. “Normally I’d tell you when dinner is served, Messieurs, but the kitchens will be closed tonight in favor of our town’s annual celebration.”

“What ya celebratin’?” questioned Porthos with curiosity.

“Nothing really,” the innkeeper laughed heartily. “We just picked out a suitable date where everyone in our town could visit with one another without worries of our daily toils. Many of the locals will provide entertainment along with dancing, and nearly everyone brings a covered dish to share.”

“There’s food?” Porthos eyes gleamed, then feeling someone stomp on his foot he turned and shot Aramis a dirty look.

“Oui and all are invited to attend.” He stopped in front of their rooms and held out the keys to the three men. “If you need anything just ask for Georges, that’s me.”

“Nice fellow,” Porthos commented before heading into his own room. “I don’t know about you two, but I need a break,” he frowned as he took in the cross looked that covered Athos’s face. “Joinin’ our fellow man for a bit of entertainment isn’t gonna stop us searchin’ for our pup.”

“I agree, mon ami,” Aramis offered them a thin smile. “A few hours of rest and we’ll be refreshed enough in time for the festivities later.”

Athos just grunted and kicked the door open to his own room.

Both Porthos and Aramis stared at each other in dismay, knowing that with each day that passed Athos was gradually slipping away from them. They wouldn’t lose him as well and vowed to keep their older comrade grounded to this life and not slide into despair no matter the outcome.

++++

*Village Celebration*

Sipping his second glass of unlaced punch, Aramis grinned. “We should ask the captain about holding something like this for the men back at the garrison.”

“Beats those damn balles the king’s always high on havin’.” Porthos looked about the huge barn they were in that had been temporarily converted for this event. “Looks right invitin’.”

“I don’t suppose there’s wine about?” Athos looked with a baleful eye on the punch both his friend’s were drinking.

“For once come down off that high plateau you live on, Athos, and live like one of the common people,” Aramis remarked with a straight face.

Snorting, Athos reached for an empty glass and began to fill it with the red, frothy, liquid. He was frowning down into the punch bowl as if afraid something would jump out of it at him, which made Porthos howl with gusty laughter. His larger friend’s behavior did not improve Athos’s mood one whit.

The inseparables had stayed on the sidelines watching the locals dance and enjoy the music being performed. Tables were arranged along the sides of the barn with huge arrays of food on them for the hungry, to which Porthos generously helped himself too.

“Perhaps you and I should get something to eat before Porthos devours everything in sight,” Aramis quipped. He was pleased to see that he had succeeded in coaxing a small smile from Athos’s sullen features.

“Uh, guys,” Porthos grabbed each of his friends by the arm. “If this punch ain’t spiked and my eyes aren’t deceivin’ me then I think I spotted d’Artagnan.”

“This isn’t a time for levity,” Athos snapped, hurt that his friend would jest over something like this.

“Athos,” Aramis whispered urgently, “it is d’Artagnan.”

Whipping his head around so fast, Athos nearly became dizzy, but he managed to follow Aramis’s finger to where his friend pointed. Near where the local musicians stood playing were an older couple and beside them was a serious looking d’Artagnan. Athos was about to march over there and demand an explanation from the boy as to why he didn’t have the decency to let them know where he was, but a large hand gripped his arm hard preventing Athos from going no further than a few steps. “Let... me... go, Porthos!” he growled.

“Somethin’s wrong,” Porthos stated flatly. “I feel it.”

“Let me get close to them and see what I can overhear,” Aramis offered and without waiting for Athos to agree, he jauntily crossed the room.

As Aramis stood quite near d’Artagnan and the couple the youngster was with, he was able to make out parts of their conversation.

“Francois, why don’t you ask one of those pretty girls to dance,” Albert teased gently.

“I think I would rather stay here with the both of you,” d’Artagnan gazed about the room. His eyes took in the villagers enjoying themselves. Some he had already met while others were new to him. His glance skimmed past Aramis without recognition of the man registering.

When d’Artagnan’s eyes moved right over Aramis without pause, he realized that d’Artagnan did not know him. Taking matters into his own hands, Aramis decided to join them. “Pardon,” he interrupted. “My friends and I are just passing through,” even though Aramis was talking to the couple his eyes studied the boy with great intent, “is this a common occurrence?” As the conversation flowed his heart sank realizing it wasn’t a fluke and that d’Artagnan really did not recognize him at all. Tipping his hat, Aramis thanked them and went back to his worried brothers.

“Well?” Athos barely restrained himself from going over and dragging the whelp back by his hair.

“D’Artagnan must have suffered some type of accident for he didn’t react to my presence at all,” Aramis chewed on his lower lip until it nearly bled. It was going on three week since they had last been all together, and d’Artagnan’s injury must have been quite grave if it prevented him from recognizing one of his famille.

“Amnesia?” Athos wondered out loud. “That would explain many things.”

“I told them we were just passing through," Aramis explained as he, Porthos and Athos silently communicated to one another what they planned to do next.

“Then tomorrow we will *pass through* to wherever it is they live,” Athos grimly announced.

++++

*Next day - Picard’s lands*

“Albert,” d’Artagnan ran over to the barn where the older man was feeding the horses, “three riders coming in.”

“Yeah, I saw them. How about going inside.” Albert wanted to err on the side of caution. After all Francois’s attackers had never been accounted for.

“If you’re staying I am too,” d’Artagnan announced stubbornly.

“Didn’t think you’d listen to reason,” Albert mumbled as he waved a hand in greeting to the strangers. “Bon jour, Messieurs.”

“Bon jour to you as well,” Aramis returned. Gesturing to his friends, he pointed to each man as he made the introductions. “Athos, Porthos and I am Aramis.”

“I’m Albert Picard, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Albert couldn’t help but notice the leathers they wore which were adorned with a Musketeer’s pauldron. “Last night you were not dressed as soldiers.”

“Non,” Aramis smiled. “As you have probably now guessed, we’ve been on official business and are looking for one of our own.”

Knowing he wasn’t always the sharpest tool in the shed, Albert saw the way Aramis and the other men gazed at the youngster. “This is Francois,” he patted the boy companionably on the back. “He’s been a great help to me with my horses ever since I found him unconscious in my field.”

Dismounting, the three Musketeers slowly approached the two men. Athos’s gaze never wavered from the youngster’s, though the latter never uttered a word yet.

“I’m something of a medic,” Aramis announced modestly as he took in d’Artagnan’s unblinking stare. “Would you mind if I check you over.”

“The lad can be quiet as a wee mouse most of the time,” Albert nodded at the boy, letting Francois know it was okay to let the Musketeer look at his injury.

“Follow me then,” d’Artagnan finally acknowledged as he disappeared inside the house, turning his head once to make sure the soldier was with him.

“How did you find, d’Artagnan?” Athos asked the instant the lad was out of his sight. 

“Is that the young man’s name then?” Seeing Athos nod in the affirmative, Albert somehow thought the lad’s name suited him. “I was outside training my horses when one of them accidentally broke down part of the fence and escaped. I had to race after him before he was lost to me and that’s when I stumbled over the boy’s unconscious body.”

“Did he not have on his uniform that you did not know he was one of us?” Athos exchanged a brief look with Porthos.

“Non,” Albert shook his head. “Only had on a badly torn shirt and his breeches.”

“Bandits!” Porthos growled. “The captain should have never sent d’Artagnan alone.”

“It’s a possibility it was bandits,” Athos agreed. “We won’t know until d’Artagnan remembers what happened.”

“Francois,” Albert paused to correct himself, “I mean d’Artagnan, had a goose egg on the back of his head which was still bleeding when I discovered him.”

“We owe you our thanks for tending to him the way you have,” Athos said gratefully.

“You can also thank my sister, Olivia, who has been mothering the boy to death,” Albert laughed. “He’s been a joy to have around here and I shall miss him sorely when the lad leaves with you.” Albert would indeed miss him. His three oldest children were all grown and moved away from him. Having the youngster here made him and Olivia feel younger than their years for awhile.

“I’m not going anywhere,” d’Artagnan announced as he stepped back outside with Aramis hovering near him.

Arching a brow, Athos looked at Aramis, a question in his eyes.

“D’Artagnan took a substantial blow to the back of his head which is the apparent reason for his memory loss.”

“I refuse to go back with people I do not even know,” d’Artagnan glared at all three Musketeers in turn.

“This is ridiculous!” Athos shouted, making everyone jump. He walked over to d’Artagnan and placed both his calloused hands on either side of the boy’s face, even though the lad tried to jerk his head away from him. “You can’t know how worried we’ve all been since beginning our search for you! We’ve been at it steadily for weeks!” Seeing the blank look from the brown eyes gazing back at him, Athos snarled low and threw his hands up in the air. “None of us would say it out loud to the other, but I know we all had the same thought running through our minds.”

“And what was that?” d’Artagnan asked with trepidation filling him.

“We despaired of ever find you alive and that it would be a corpse we’d be taking back to the garrison with us,” Athos finished softly.

D’Artagnan somehow knew what it cost this Musketeer to admit that to him. Wishing with all his heart he could remember them at all, he turned and ran back inside the house.

“Eh now,” Porthos frowned over at Athos, “ya gone and scared him.”

“Rubbish,” Aramis disagreed and watched as Athos brushed past him to follow their young one.

++++

*Inside Picard’s house*

“Francois,” Olivia smiled at the agitated youngster, “or perhaps I should address you as d’Artagnan now.”

“You heard?” d’Artagnan whispered shakily.

“How could I not?” Placing a motherly arm about the boy, Olivia led him over to a chair and pushed him into it. “Sit right there while I get you a snifter of brandy.” Glancing over her shoulder Olivia spotted a distraught Athos. “Care for one as well?” she lifted a brow.

“Please?” Athos dipped his head. Sitting opposite d’Artagnan, he folded his hands together in his lap. “I know this has to come as a complete shock to you, and I would love for you to have more time to gain your memories back before we leave but Captain Treville’s patience has its limits.”

“I understand that,” d’Artagnan leaned forward, arms resting on his legs, hands dangling between them. “Couldn’t I stay here until then?”

“That’s completely out of the question!” Athos bristled at the boy’s words. After all this time hunting for him, d’Artagnan expected to be left behind. Not on his watch.

“Stupid question evidently,” d’Artagnan muttered to the floorboards.

“Here’s the brandy,” Olivia placed it in the young man’s hand and gave the other to Athos. 

Before they could even enjoy their drinks, the sound of gunshots came from outside. Both Athos and d’Artagnan ran to join the others. 

“What’s going on?” d’Artagnan asked Albert. The older man’s complexion had taken on a pasty quality.

“Bandits!” Albert shouted. “They’re after my horses!” He immediately ran inside to get his pistol.

“Dollars to donuts those are the ones that hurt our boy!” Porthos shouted to his brothers.

“Revenge will be sweet indeed,” Athos growled low as he and Albert chased after three of the bandits heading toward the barn.

Porthos and Aramis were taking care of the four that remained outside as they saw d’Artagnan fighting two more off with a sword and his main gauche. Both men worried about the head injury the boy already had sustained worsening further but as they had their own hands full realized they couldn’t do a thing about it.

As d’Artagnan fought off the two men, he got distracted as one of the horses escaped the barn and ran past him. This was enough to let one of the bandits get close enough to d’Artagnan to ring his skull with the pommel of the bandit’s sword. Dropping like a stone, d’Artagnan lost his battle with consciousness once again.

Finishing off his opponent, Aramis looked over his shoulder and saw d’Artagnan on the ground. “Mon dieu!” Running over as quickly as he could, Aramis knelt by the younger man’s side. “Another knot on your head. Not good at all,” he murmured before crossing himself and saying a quick prayer to the Almighty. “Porthos! If you’re done over there I need your help getting our pup back inside the house!”

Swearing profusely, Porthos took in the sight of the whelp’s head being cradled in Aramis’s lap. “I’ve got him.” Tenderly he picked up the boy and took him inside where he followed Olivia upstairs to d’Artagnan’s room.

“Are Albert and Athos all right?” Olivia was afraid to ask, for the two men with her still bore frightening looks on their faces from the battle.

“I can guarantee Athos is,” Aramis nodded. “How well can your brother handle that pistol?”

“Well indeed,” Albert said as he came inside the room. “All the bandits are dead. Your friend Athos could use a little help with the bodies.”

Looking at Porthos, Aramis nodded, letting the bigger man know silently to get Athos.

Sitting beside d’Artagnan, Aramis checked the bruising the pommel caused. Olivia handed him a clean cloth and he began to wipe the blood away that had crusted around d’Artagnan’s temple. “How one so young can find so much trouble without trying amazes even me.”

“What the deuce happened this time!” Athos cried as he saw Aramis taking care of d’Artagnan.

“He was handling himself like the old d’Artagnan until one of the horses whizzed past causing a bandit to clock him with the pommel of his sword,” Aramis huffed.

“You usually keep a sword around the house?” Porthos asked.

“It was on the ground beside the boy when I found him, along with his dagger,” Albert explained.

“Ah!” Athos nodded and sat on the edge of the child’s bed. When d’Artagnan stirred and finally pried his eyes open, Athos was relieved. He silently prayed that all would be well with their youngest as he held tightly onto one of the boy’s hands.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan gave his mentor one of his brilliant smiles. “What took you so long to find me?”

Exchanging awkward looks with Aramis and Porthos, Athos seemed stunned. “What do you remember, if anything?”

“I was lost inside my head,” d’Artagnan winced as Aramis cleaned another crust of blood away. “Everything seemed mixed up. I saw faces but couldn't place names to them.” Smiling at Albert and Olivia, he ducked his head. “Coming here, I suddenly found I didn’t want to remember those people I saw in my mind.”

“Probably because you felt safer here,” Porthos smiled, offering whatever comfort he could give to the whelp.

“I honestly don’t know how I could forget any of you!” d’Artagnan cried out in distress as he surged upward into Athos’s arms. Holding onto the older Musketeer tightly like he would never let go, tears slipped down d’Artagnan’s young face. “I love you... all of you, my brothers!” Feeling light kisses drop onto the top of his head from his three friends, d’Artagnan sighed and went limp in Athos’s hold.

“Aramis, d’Artagnan’s out again,” Athos was frightened at the way the boy just became dead weight.

“He’s fine, just needs more rest,” Aramis assured him. “I never thought I’d say it was ever a good thing to get thumped on the head by a sword but in our boy’s case it was a Godsend.”

“Amen,” Porthos added seriously, squeezing Athos's shoulder gently. “I knew the lad was a strong one and would come back to us.”

“Well after all that excitement would anyone be interested in dinner?” Olivia asked brightly.

Everyone but Athos agreed that their bellies were empty and needed fed.

“I will remain with d’Artagnan if none of you mind,” Athos said quietly as he settled himself alongside the boy.

“I’ll bring your meal up to you later,” Olivia told him, knowing the man’s need to be with d’Artagnan far outweighed his hunger.

“My thanks,” Athos murmured softly as he carded his fingers in the youngster's hair. When everyone had left he sat up against the headboard and cradled d’Artagnan in his arms. “I thought my life was over again when I couldn’t find you,” tears Athos had held back choked his throat. “If you were dead I had no more reason to exist.”

Slowly opening his eyes, d’Artagnan gripped Athos’s doublet tightly. “Someday, which I hope is far far away, when you are too old to lift up a sword any longer I vow to take care of you until my dying day, Athos.”

“Sweet, sweet, boy,” Athos pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s uninjured temple. “I pray too that day is a long time coming for you still need my schooling.”

“I always will, my fre’re,” d’Artagnan whispered and closed his eyes once more as sleep claimed him.

The End


End file.
